Page 149 of A Question of Character

Elizabeth’s brows rose slightly.

“You have known him longer than you have known me,” he said. “You have received him in your home. Your uncle employs him. Your sister is attached to him. Loyalty is not a vice.”

“Thank you.”

“But that does not excuse your support of a scoundrel.”

Her face closed. “There it is.”

“I will not soften the truth merely because it displeases you.”

“And I will not abandon a man whose behavior has given every indication of reform merely because your resentment is more established than my acquaintance.”

“Resentment?” Darcy repeated.

“Yes. Resentment. You told me yourself your good opinion, once lost, is lost forever. I begin to wonder whether you consider that a virtue.”

He drew back. “You think me unjust.”

“I think you are certain. Those are sometimes different things.”

“Wickham earned my trust.”

“And has done nothing here to confirm it.”

“Because he wishes to deceive you.”

“Or because he wishes to be better.”

Darcy’s temper stirred again, unwelcome and familiar. “How do you explain Ramsgate?”

“I cannot.”

“Then—”

“But I do believe we are missing some vital bit of information.”

He gave a sharp breath. “You cling to that hope because the alternative displeases you.”

“And you cling to guilt because innocence would require you to reconsider too much.”

The words struck cleanly.

Darcy stared at her.

Elizabeth’s face flushed, but she did not retreat. “Speak to him.”

“No.”

“Civilly.”

“No.”

“Mr. Darcy—”

“I will not sit with George Wickham and be poisoned by his lies.”

“You need not believe him. You need only listen.”